


Once Upon A Hogwart

by undsy1525



Series: Once Upon A Hogwart [1]
Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Cinderella, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Gen, ooc, short story collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 15:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undsy1525/pseuds/undsy1525
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of fairy-tale oneshots with a twist. Beginning with a retelling of Cinderella-will eventually include such tales as Beauty and the Beast, East of the Sun and West of the Moon, Snow White, The Twelve Dancing Princesses, etc. Will be updating regularly and taking requests. Moderate to extreme AU and OOC. Ye have been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon A Hogwart

(indyheart is my other username; found at harrypotterfanfiction.com & noveljoy)

 

Disclaimer: I leave ownership to the true geniuses: J.K. Rowling, the Grimm brothers, Hans Christian Anderson, etc. Anything unrecognizable belongs to the plot-bunnies streaking hither and yon through my disconnected brain. Sometimes I catch a glimpse. I suppose as a writer, that is all I can really ask for…

 

Hermes: A Retelling of Cinderella

 

Part One 

Cold Water*

 

The wind tore at the roof of Granger Manor, gripped the edges and pulled with all of its furious might. Merlin, but the skies were not happy this night. Trees bowed down, grasses, florets surrendered and sacrificed, but all to no end. Destruction was lent upon the land, and yet—the elements were not appeased.

An innocent soul had been struck down in his youth. Murdered by a rabid wolf disguised in an ewe's disarming fleece—a vain woman the young man had been temporarily foolish enough to marry for her beauty and cunning. Seeking a small payment of retribution, the heavens' wrath bore down on the small township of Hogsmeade until the long-anticipated dawn.

With weary and disgruntled airs, the citizens began to crawl out from underneath their beds, and open their freshly battered doors. All save for one.

Hermione Granger remained underneath her bed, shaking despite the numbness that had taken over her limbs. Unshed tears stained her wide cinnamon eyes, and with a determined set little face from her, the tears conceded. The tears did not fall.

The fury of the storm was over, but the sky opened and keened softly for the broken-hearted child still upon the dusty and earthen floor. An astonishing aura of magic cocooned the small girl, imbibing her with a small modicum of comfort—but mostly she laid in an overwhelming cloud of misery. She had loved her father with all of her heart and was shocked to find herself an orphan.

Hermione closed her eyes and hugged her favorite tome to her chest. Surely, she will find that this had all been a dream. Certainly, peace arrived with the tiding of a new day.

Ah, sad little lass. For one so valiant, so lionhearted—her true test would be to make it thus. For Hermione Jane Granger, morning would be a long time coming.*

Her father, Thomas Granger, had been suddenly afflicted with a horrible unknown disease and had perished within an hour. The manor was abuzz with worry and gossip—and regret. Master Thomas Granger had been kind, jocular and generous.

His new wife was proving to be anything but.

Narcissa Granger was as demanding as the day was long. Within hours of her husband's untimely death, she was organizing the grandest burial and commemoration services to have ever been conceived this side of the Scottish border. One can hardly wonder at the ardor that is so common among newlyweds, but there have been whisperings…

Some say that Narcissa's true lover killed Master Granger out of jealousy—others that the plague was upon them, and that they were all going to die. Most agreed that dark times were settling in along with Mistress Granger's new orders, and it might be high time indeed to move on. All felt pity for the young missy upstairs, who had been ignoring the many calls upon her door. There was no mistaking that tiny Hermione had been the apple of her father's eye, and she was surely in for a trial.

Narcissa had one child, a coldly beautiful daughter by the name of Dracaena. An imperious girl, Dracaena had yet to befriend Hermione even though they were the same age of eight. Dracaena certainly did not knock upon Hermione's door to see if she was okay.

When Hermione finally did venture downstairs, mostly because of the hollowness of her stomach, she found an overwhelming circus of activity around her. The servants were all in a tizzy, trying to please their new Mistress. Though it must be admitted that a varying degree of grumbling was going on.

"Her Majesty demands more sugar in her tea."

"Why does she need an appointment with the royal seamstress? She just acquired a whole new wardrobe."

"She fired me. She fired me! Hmph. That is the last time I suggest Zonko's new anti-aging and reversa-wrinkle cream to anyone who needs it. I was only trying to be obliging and supportive."

The head cook, one round Molly Weasley laughed and slapped the tall tutor good-naturedly on his back. "You, Sirius, obliging? Excuse me while I don't hold my breath for fear of passing out."

"What is that you are implying, Molly? That I am somehow less than perfect?"

Molly held up her wooden spoon to emphasize a point when she saw Hermione out of the corner of her eye. "Oh! Dearie me. Hermione, lass, do come here. You must be starving!" Molly tutted and Sirius rolled his eyes.

"She doesn't look any thinner to me. Bit peaky, perhaps."

"Really, Sirius! Get out of my kitchen."

"Happy to oblige." Sirius winked at Hermione and ignored the snickers floating nearby.

A small smile emerged on Hermione's face despite herself, and those faces near enough to see lit up. Molly arranged a platter of chicken potpie with a few fruit and grain rolls and led the child over to the nearby plank table.

Just as Hermione was finishing her first roll, an out of breath Ron Weasley arrived in the kitchen. "Mum! She's not in her room, I can't find her anywhere-"

It was hard to hear him clearly over the din, so Molly approached her youngest son as he caught his breath. His sky blue eyes widened when he noticed the bushy curly hair at the table, and he exhaled loudly in relief. "Merlin's knobblies! There you are, Hermione."

Hermione's only reply was to raise her eyebrows daintily at her ragamuffin friend. Her stomach plummeted when Ronald wiped his sweaty brow and grimaced regretfully. "She's asking for you, Hermione. Wanting to talk to you something fierce, I'd wager."

Hermione pushed her plate away with a quiet sigh. "I see… well then. Would you care to escort me, Ron?"

His cornflower blue eyes lit up and he nodded eagerly. Molly shook her head as he juggled four rolls to eat on the way, immediately taking a huge chunk out of one. Hermione slowly followed behind her gangly friend. When they made it up the stairs and to the end of her hall, Hermione reached for Ron's arm. "Wait here please?"

Ron nodded and leaned against the wall, finishing up his last roll. He watched her hesitantly knock on the door and then enter with a line between his ginger brows. Walking over to the window, he tried not to eavesdrop. Shifting nervously from foot to foot, he heard every awful word.

Hermione spoke into the dimly lit room. She could vaguely see the outline of her stepmother and her stepsister seated comfortably in an opulent corner of the room. "You wished to see me, Stepmother?"

Narcissa smiled coldly, and beckoned the small beast forward. "Come closer, child. No, I have no wish to see you. But deal with you, I must. Just what are we going to do with you, girl?"

Cold crept up Hermione's back at the grating tone of voice, and she bit her lip to stave off any harsh retorts. Counting to ten, she finally replied. "Stepmother?"

"Enough. I am no longer your stepmother. From this moment on, you will address me as 'My Lady' and nothing else. I am henceforth and forevermore dispossessing you of your title and last name. You will revert to your boorish mother's surname. Donaldson or some-such. How dreadfully common!" Narcissa laughed, the sound of it chafing Hermione's ears.

With a steely glint magnifying her narrowed eyes, Narcissa continued. "What possessions you will be allowed to keep have been moved downstairs next to the kitchen, and you are to earn your keep, you spoiled child. I am letting you stay here out of goodwill and charity alone. If you disobey once, you are on the street. Do not stare at me like a simpleton, girl. Am I being straightforward enough for you to grasp my meaning?"

Hermione stiffened, and several seconds passed as she tried to speak. Shock had left her as a statue, rimy and numb, it took all of her effort to simply open her mouth. Finally two meek words fell across her lips, "You cannot-"

Dracaena smirked, and Narcissa cut her off. "I can, I am, and I assure you that there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. Now get out of my sight. That hideous hair is giving me a headache."

When Hermione had not budged, Narcissa waved her fingers casually and a tall man stepped out of the shadows and leered at Hermione. "Must I have Lucius escort you to your new quarters?" Narcissa asked coldly.

Hermione took a few quick steps backwards, and left the room without another word. She hardly noticed Ron staring at her, his eyes wide, and his mouth agape. Scarlet obscured her vision as she walked robotically down the hall, and she did not slow down when Ron yelled at her. Blood was rushing through her ears, and she felt as if she was underwater. Sounds, images, everything was distorted and she was sinking steadily beneath the tide. Hermione Granger, orphan and stripped of her title, was drowning.

She paused not once as she walked numbly through the bustling kitchen, deftly avoiding any curious gazes directed her way. With a sharp jerk, she opened the small door at the left of the sink and pulled it closed behind her. As the grim sight reached her clouded mind, Hermione's knees buckled and she slid silently to the floor. Arms reached around her skinny knees and she held herself tight, desperately, as her world fell apart once more.

 

Part II

No one's Daughter. Allow me that.*

 

Life fell into a rhythm. Hermione would wake up every morning at four a.m. and help Molly prep for the day. As the morning progressed and into the late evening hours, Dracaena would bounce gaily into the kitchen and demand that Hermione did this or that. The list of chores remained repetitive, wearisome and never-ending.

But it was not all bad. Really, if not for Narcissa's cutting remarks and Dracaena's blatant superiority, Hermione might have almost been content. Before the dawn was her favorite time of the day. Molly would greet her enthusiastically and Hermione would ignore the sympathy in the older woman's eyes. The two of them had an easy rapport and worked together fluidly in the kitchen. Ofttimes, Molly's only daughter would join them and between the younger girl's yawns was a fount of lighthearted chatter that soothed Hermione's nerves, even on her most trying days.

Ginny had a droll and disparaging way of mocking Dracaena behind her back that made Hermione laugh, if only on the inside. After the snood was out of earshot, the two of them would titter quietly at the outrageous actions of both mother and daughter—and if the twins happened to be present, things got a little out of hand. Molly consistently admonished them, but let's face the truth: she was only doing her civic motherly duty, and often had to bite her tongue lest she too join in the diverting talk.

Sirius was replaced with a Master Snape, who was much more to Narcissa and Dracaena's taste. Hermione would see him billowing around the manor, a shuttered expression permanently attached to his face. She found herself unwittingly in the habit of slowly cleaning the study during Dracaena's lessons, soaking up every word that passed the tutor's lips. He coldly ignored her presence, but he never ordered her to leave.

Dracaena was oblivious to her presence, except when it suited her. Hermes, I require a snack. Now. Hermes, this water is too tepid. Bring me a new glass. Hermes, go see if Lupin's pears are ripe in the orchard, I have been craving one all year. Hermes, shut the grate, it is stifling in here. Merlin, Hermes, do you not wash? You are covered in soot, and smell worse than those weasel boys. Hermes, Hermes, Hermes.

Sometimes Hermione fantasized about washing Dracaena's mouth out with soap.

Over the years, the kitchen continued to act as the social melting pot, and one thing can be said about hardship. It brings people together.

Despite losing his occupation at the Granger manor, Sirius could be found there most evenings, winding down after a long day's work in the nearby Longbottom estate. At times, his tutelage Neville would tag along. He was an only child and rarely got to see any other people his own age otherwise. Remus remained, working in the gardens. All of the Weasleys worked at the manor, and let it be sure, there were a lot of them. The red-headed clan was the backbone of the Granger household, and despite Narcissa's consistent complaints, she never let a one of them go.

In the evenings, after the esteemed ladies had been fed and settled down for the night, everyone would congregate in the kitchen for dinner. Molly, Hermione and Ginny were kept busy helping to serve everyone, but with such a lively bunch, the task barely felt like work. Occasionally, a silent Snape would join the table for a meal, and Hermione always made sure to be the one to serve him.

Not that she had any competition, mind you. The other girls were more than willing to avoid the dark tutor. But something about the taciturn man struck her deep. Occasionally, his fathomless black eyes would meet hers, and Hermione's senses would reel. In nine years he had never addressed her, but she had the deepest feeling that he knew everything about her. About her father. About the cataclysmic joke that was her life. There was no doubt in her mind that the enigmatic tutor did not miss much.

This evening as she refilled his pumpkin juice, he inclined his head slightly at her, a mute acknowledgment of appreciation. Hermione stared at him for several seconds before moving on. Molly's curious gaze met hers as she turned towards Remus to refill his large glass, and Hermione could not believe it. She blushed.

Making matters worse, she avoided eye contact with Molly for the rest of the night. The intuitive older woman was going to know that something was going on, that was for certain. Hermione frowned at Percy's back. Was there anything going on? How could there be? He was twice her age and they had never even spoken. She just needed some fresh air, tis all. Without a backwards glance, Hermione set her pitcher down and left the sweltering kitchen.

A full moon lit up the navy sky, and Hermione leaned against the railing for support. Merlin, but she missed her parents. Her shoulders rounded as she gazed upon the moon, and a sigh escaped her. She could still feel her father's shoulders beneath her as he held her up to study the night sky. His voice had been gravelly and full of texture. He would tell her, "Just look at the moon, Hermie, and remember this. No matter where I am or you happen to be, the moon is always the same. The moon will keep us together forever."

Hermione sat down upon the nearest step and watched the giant orb silently.

She pushed the creeping loneliness away and started humming softly. Beginning to feel the effects of her long day, Hermione closed her eyes. The cool breeze was relaxing to her sweaty brow.

She was trying to make herself get up and help finish serving dinner when the door closed quietly behind her and she heard a few muffled steps. As she looked up, she caught the gaze of Master Snape and swallowed nervously. He stared at her for a few seconds before continuing down the steps. As he reached the ground, he turned back once more, perhaps unable to help it. His face remained impassive as he bid her a good evening. "Good night, Miss Granger."

Hermione opened her mouth in surprise and could barely manage a whisper. "Good night."

An almost warm expression crossed his face, and he turned away abruptly. With quick steps, he reached his horse and mounted gracefully, seemingly without effort. He rode away without looking back, and Hermione could feel a tightness in her chest loosening somewhat. He did know the truth.

With a new spring her in step, she got up and reentered the kitchen. A hesitant smile crossed her face, and she helped Molly with the dishes before they sat down to eat their own dinner in a quiet corner. Ginny was bouncing in her seat, an almost endless source of energy, and Hermione chuckled at her friend as she clamored on and on about the upcoming Hogsmeade Faire.

That night, Hermione slept peacefully.

Winter was finally creeping away, and the Earth's seemingly sudden renewal took Hermione's breath away. She stood on the threshold of the greenhouse and the smell of freshly turned soil and approaching rain filled her chest full to busting. Hermione closed her eyes. Her seventeenth birthday had passed a few months before and she had barely noticed it.

But now, with spring and re-growth encroaching upon her doorway, Hermione felt the significance of her age for the first time. She was an adult. She was free to go or do as she so wished, for better or for worse.

Hermione smiled.

With quick movements, she untied her overlarge burlap apron, and left it hanging on a rake. Walking purposefully, Hermione strode across the damp grass and waved at Remus in the garden-plot as she passed. First things first, she was going to pack up her few belongings and then talk to Molly about where she could possibly go. She did not really think that she could stand to be oppressed under her own roof any longer. Not for another minute.

As she was walking down the hallway, Dracaena caught her and began pulling her towards her bedroom. "Hermes, you absolutely will never believe what we just received! By a personal courier no less. I am so excited that I can hardly stand it! Prince Potter is having a masque ball! Oh, rapture! Mother! Mother, where are you?"

Narcissa opened a nearby door with a flourish and eyed them both placidly. "Dracaena, do not yell so. What is it, dear?"

"Mother, you will be so delighted! Prince Potter is finally throwing a ball, and we have all received invitations. Finally, my dreams are coming true! I am going to be a princess!"

Hermione had to hold back a snort of derision at the girl's wild conclusion jumping. Dracaena danced around the room, dragging Hermione with her. Hermione stumbled once in the landing, but Dracaena merely continued to pull her arm distractedly. "Hermes, you have to prepare my hair and help with my toiletries. You may assist Miss Malkin with my gown-"

Hermione yanked her arm out of the tight grip. With a tired sigh, she leveled her gaze with Dracaena's surprised one. "I will not, Dracaena."

Narcissa's smile evaporated. "Say that again, girl."

Hermione straightened and smoothed her skirt. Firmly, but without looking at her stepmother she repeated her meaning. "I am done, I refuse. You cannot make me do your trivial errands any longer. Why, I may even go to the ball myself."

When Hermione did glance up after several seconds had passed in silence, she was surprised to find her stepmother smiling. Dracaena had a stupefied expression on her face, but Narcissa was practically glowing. Without a warning, the older woman grabbed Hermione's elbow in a vice-like grip and pulled her down the hallway.

Narcissa was stronger than she looked, and dragged Hermione forcefully down two flights of stairs, ignoring Hermione's cries of outrage the entire trip. When they had reached the cellar, Narcissa opened the door and threw Hermione inside of the dimly lit room. She laughed coldly, and stepped towards the girl sprawled on the floor. "Consider your welcome officially worn out, girl. Come hell or high water, I will never let you go to that ball. Prince Potter is said to be choosing a future bride from one of the eligible young ladies, and he is going to choose my Dracaena."

Hermione began to sit up, and faced the mad lady with a shrewd glint in her eye. "Do you intend to lock up all of the other eligible girls in cellars then? Do you think Potter blind, mad or worse? Why in the name of Merlin would he ever choose your repugnant daughter?"

Narcissa slapped her smartly across the face and restrained herself with a growl. "You know nothing and do at least attempt to keep that tongue on a leash. Trust me, you vile girl, I have my ways. Potter will choose someone from this house—and it will not be you." Narcissa laughed at the thought, and turned, her skirts swishing as she closed the heavy door.

Narcissa's face twisted as she slid the lock into place from the outside and bid the girl "Adieu!"

Hermione hesitantly stood and while massaging her back unconsciously, she took in her dark surroundings. There were no windows since she was underground, and she grit her teeth. Three of the walls were primarily used as a pantry and Hermione shook her head slightly. At least she knew she wouldn't starve.

She had been down here several times in the past, and she had to wonder at her stepmother's logic. Surely, at some point in the near future, someone would come to collect a needed ingredient for a meal.

Two wall sconces on either side of the door remained lit at all times, and after inspecting every nook and cranny of the heavy oak door, Hermione sat down with a sigh.

Her stepmother's words had set her mind to pondering the exact implication of what she had said. Could it be that Narcissa had slipped her father a love potion? Such a thing was rare, but not unheard of. Most had forgotten the old ways.

A rustling in a pitch-black corner drew Hermione's head up and she sat painfully still. A small field mouse would not alarm her, but they are not the only animals that go bump in the night. Imagine a rat or a huge spider…

She shook herself and strode around below the low ceiling. The dark corners were impossible to see, but Hermione knew that water was stored here and crates of imported tea there. Sacks of flour on that shelf that she had unloaded herself. Yes, that was right.

Maybe… maybe if she made enough noise, someone would come? She opened her mouth to scream when she spied a discarded pot on one of the top shelves. She dragged two bags of flour near the pan and stacked them on top of each other. Standing on top of the bags, she gripped the edge of a shelf and reached with the other hand, stretching.

Just as she gripped the edge of the handle, she lost her balance and nearly fell. She caught her breath, and was about to reach once more when the pot lifted into the air and floated towards her. Hermione screamed and fell, breaking one of the bags of flour open. A cloud of white powder enveloped the air and Hermione coughed and fell twice more in her effort to get up. She backed against the opposite wall as the pan gently bumped against her hand repeatedly, clearly asking for her to take it. Well, that was strange.

Hermione swallowed a hysterical lump and gripped the handle of the stubborn pot in her right hand. Immediately, the pot settled down and Hermione stared down at it bemusedly.

Just as she was wishing that she had a large metal spoon to really make a clamor with, one that she recognized from the kitchen appeared inside of the slightly dented pot. Hermione laughed nervously and decided not to waste any time. She was clearly hallucinating, but mad or not, she was not complaining.

She wiped her dirty brow with her hand and left a tan smudge across her otherwise flour-white forehead. With small steps she approached the door and began banging the spoon inside of the pot with all of her furious might. The sound was comfortingly loud, and before she had anticipated, the lock on the door was being slid open. Light blinded her as the door was swung forward, and Hermione's smile faded as the sight before her came into focus.

Her stepmother's lapdog, the infamously cruel Lucius Malfoy stalked towards her and Hermione dropped both items from her trembling hands. His lip curled as he backed her against a wall. "I would not do that if I were you, mudblood." His eyes, shadowed by darkness, clouded over with something Hermione never wanted to see again. "I do not mind a little noise."

He gripped her chin tightly and tilted her head up. She closed her eyes and tried not to breathe. His breath nauseated her as he whispered into her ear. "If you are eager to make some more noise later, I will be more than ready, Miss Donaldson. Waiting, right outside your door." He released her and straightened his robes, his gaze mocking her. "Just try that again and see what it earns you, girl."

He turned dramatically and left, barring the door shut.

Hermione put her hand over her mouth to muffle her scream.

 

Part III

Lord, can you hear me now?  
Or am I lost?*

 

"Mollywobbles, just leave the rest of the dishes. Ginny and Ron can finish them. I know that you're worried about Hermione. Why don't we help Remus and Sirius look for her?"

Molly turned towards Arthur and wiped her brow, a habit when she was nervous. "Alright, dear. I'll just—"

Molly stopped when she saw Narcissa, the Lady of the manor standing in her kitchen. Narcissa's eyebrow rose coolly, and the younger lady addressed them both. "That pestilent, that girl Hermes has decided to leave us all. I ask it of you, Mrs. Weasley, to clean out her room and her effects. Make sure they are properly disposed of. That will be all." Imperiously ignoring them once more, Narcissa swept out of the now silent kitchen.

Molly stared at her husband and he stared back. As one, they both rushed towards Hermione's small room and quite ungracefully tried to squeeze through the door at the same time.

"Oh confound it, man! Where are your manners?" Molly scolded her husband and he had the courtesy to look embarrassed.

"Pardon, madam." With a devilish glint in his eye, he tried to pinch her, but she shooed him away. "Really, Arthur! Focus, please. Hermione would not leave without so much as a goodbye. I do not trust that woman."

Arthur conceded. "Too right, what's to trust? There is definitely something rotten in the state of Denmark."

Molly stared at her husband quizzically. "What in Merlin's name are you going on about?"

Arthur rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. "Er, nothing dear. Do you see anything amiss in here?" He stared around rather uncomfortably. He was not used to barging into other peoples rooms, now that he thought about it.

Molly shook her head and sat down on a mended chair. "What do you think happened? She was in such good spirits last night. Why I almost thought that—well… never mind that. Can you round up the boys, and I will start a tracking spell on her?"

Arthur nodded and left the room. Time to find Remus and Sirius.

Three nights passed, and no progress had been made in the search for Hermione. Molly's tracking spell was refusing to work, and she was beside herself with worry. She now suspected Narcissa of possessing her own witchcraft, for who else would block her efforts?

Molly planned a meeting again tonight for the search.

Hermione lay still in the semi-darkness. She wished a lot of things, but the strangest wish she had was that Narcissa and Dracaena might succeed. If they were to move into their precious castle, then they would not be here. She could have her manor back. To live in peace, this is all that she really wanted.

She would move back into her old bedroom, change into some real clothes… take a bubble bath. She would give everyone a raise. And perhaps… perhaps Snape could be called upon to stay. For awhile at least. There was just so much that she had missed, so much that she could learn… What a joy would it be to be directly taught by such a man? She could scarcely think of such an idea, it was almost too painful to behold. A formal education… Hermione could hardly fathom anything else that she wanted more than that.

His face was swimming before her eyes when she heard a disruption outside of her door. Alarmed, Hermione got up on her hands and knees and scuttled across the cold dirty floor, backing as far away as she could.

After several loud crashes and exclamations, the door slammed open and Remus fell into the room. After a few startled seconds, Hermione ran towards him, shock written over all of her features. "Remus? What are you—are you alright?" She looked through the door and saw Sirius grinning at her in front of an unconscious Lucius. "Oh, thank you. How did you… let me help you up, Remus."

Both Hermione and Sirius assisted Remus as he stood, and Hermione inspected him quickly and visually. His nose was bleeding and might be broken, but overall she thought that he was okay. Sirius began dusting Hermione off quite vigorously and he could not help laughing. "Well, my Lady, I would say that you were a sight for sore eyes, but I would be lying. I cannot even see you for all of the dirt and grime—"

Remus snorted and shook his head sadly. "Ignore the brute, Hermione. Thank Merlin we found you. I was beginning to… well, let's get you out of here before this goon wakes up. Sirius, would you mind taking out the trash?"

A gleam lit up the devilishly handsome man's face and he grinned coldly. "It would be my most profound pleasure."

Hermione's eyes widened as Remus carefully led her up the steep stairs. One of his arms was around her shoulders and he held her arm with his other hand. "What is he going to—"

Remus shook his head. "Never you mind, Hermione. Let us just return you to Molly."

She turned back a few times as they walked up, but Remus never let her go. She wasn't sure what she would do, at any rate. They reached the main floor landing and Hermione convinced Remus to let her go. "I'm fine, Remus, really."

She halfway sprinted down the hall towards the kitchen and found everyone walking around aimlessly, bundles of nervous energy. There was an uproar when she was spotted, and Hermione was passed from one person to the next in a plethora of hugs. Molly held Hermione tightly for a long time before she let her go, and then held her out at arms length to study her. "Thank Merlin! Oh, I wasn't sure—that wretched woman—Are you okay, dearie?"

Hermione smiled. "I'm fine, but I suppose—"

Ron sneezed and she threw her head back and laughed. "Er, well, yes—I could use a bath, as Sirius was only too kind to point out."

Molly tutted and cleared a path. "Let's get you resettled dear. Ginerva, would you fetch me some water and bring it to Hermione's old room? It is time that you took back your place, child. Enough is enough, as they so emphatically say."

Hermione nodded. They had crossed that 'enough' bridge a long time ago. If there was ever a time for burning bridges, this was that moment.

After Hermione soaked, rejuvenated and got blessedly clean in the tub, Molly and Ginny sat with her by the fireside.

Molly was playing with Ginny's hair. "You don't have to tell us about it, dear."

Hermione shook her damp head. "No, no that is okay. I just… she did not want me to go to the ball. Isn't that silly? It is probably over and done with now, isn't it?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, not exactly. The ball is tonight. That is why we were able to find you."

Hermione's brow wrinkled. "What do you mean?"

Molly patted her arm. "I don't advertise it, dearie—but I have a few magical abilities. Narcissa does as well, it seems. She hid your whereabouts from us but I was able to break her shield when she left to go to the ball tonight. Why would she take such measures to keep you from going, I must wonder?"

Hermione frowned and wanted to ask her about the pot and the spoon incident, but knew that could wait. "The way that she spoke… I thought perhaps she had made a love potion for the Prince. She said that he would fall in love with someone from this house."

Ginny frowned. "Are love potions normally so vague?"

Molly shook her head. "No, she must not be very adept at them. Surely, she might have asked Master Snape? But—"

Hermione's head shot up. "What would he know about love potions?"

Molly rubbed her eyes. "He is not just a tutor, Hermione. When he is not here, he is working in the King's apothecary. Rumor has it, he is as advanced at potions as anyone could hope to be. He must have refused her." She exclaimed. "But I would have loved to have seen that!"

Hermione's mind was reeling. Snape… her Snape… potions… refusing Narcissa?

Molly jumped up suddenly. "Well! We know what we must do now. There is no two ways about it."

Both girls jumped. "Wh-what?"

"Hermione, you must go to the ball. Whatever plans that witch has, they can only bring more grief upon our heads. Can you imagine the power that she would have at the right hand to the Kingdom? No. We cannot let that happen."

Hermione was taken aback. "But—what can I do about it?"

"You must go and speak with the Prince. Sway his favor towards you. Such a poor love potion is easily distracted and broken."

Hermione was shaking her head but Ginny had a glint of excitement in her eye. "I'll go with you, Hermione. Two heads are better than one, certainly."

Molly nodded and beckoned for them to stand. "Arms out, dears. Okay. Forgive your Mum, she's a little rusty. Here we go!"

She pulled an odd stick out of her apron and twirled it at them energetically. "Gunna juelerie apidom!"

Slowly, their old dresses began transforming and both girls stared down in awe. Ginny twirled happily in hers. "Why have you never taught me this one, Mum? Dead practical, it is." She winked at Hermione and laughed.

Molly frowned, a look of concentration on her face. "Now for the masques. Oh, for the love of—be still Ginerva. Okay then. Mascar appendere!"

Both of the girls felt their faces, a little alarmed. Hermione and Ginny looked at each other and both smiled broadly. Ginny's gown was a shimmering gold, a walking embodiment of the harvest moon. Her masque was dainty, and a darker gold, highlighting her auburn hair and the freckles in their sheer abundance. Always considered attractive, Ginny was breathtaking and in her element.

Hermione felt out of place next to her winsome best friend, but her own appearance shone in its own right. Her gown was fuller and seemed to play tricks on the eyes. Celestial shades of ivory and cream winked playfully across the tulle-like fabric and hypnotized the viewer until they were sure that they were beholding a goddess borne of starlight. Tiny pearls added texture to her masque, and the large accessory covered most of her face, which Hermione appreciated. If she was going to do this, she wanted to be as anonymous as possible.

Molly swept them out of the room, down the hall and followed them out of the front door. "Good luck, my loves! Oh, and remember! The enchantments will wear off at midnight, so do not dally."

Ginny groaned. "Midnight? Why midnight?"

Molly put her hands on her hips and faced her daughter firmly. "Because I am your Mother, and I said so, young lady."

Ginny kissed Molly on the cheek, quickly followed by Hermione and the two held their skirts up and raced towards the nearby stable. Ginny's high-spirited giggles filled the air and they quickly hitched the carriage to Hermione's favorite horse, Barmy.

The twins had named him. Enough said.

The carriage started rolling, driven by one unhappy Percy Weasley. They were set upon their destination, and Hermione gripped Ginny's hands in her own. "Gin, I don't know if I can do this. What could I possibly do to influence the Prince to our favor instead of Dracaena's?"

Ginny smiled at her best friend. "You don't see yourself clearly at all, do you, Hermione? Do not worry. I have a good feeling about him. You just wait." Ginny laughed lightly. "I have never needed a love potion to get attention when I wanted it. You may not have realized, but you did not either."

"What do you mean, Gin? I am all bushy hair and knobbly knees. I am no one's idea of beauty."

Ginny shook her head. "You are very charming, Hermione. Trust me."

Ginny smiled and tugged on her skirt. When she saw her plainly clad feet she groaned. "Mum forgot about our shoes." She bit her lip but Hermione smoothed her hands over her own skirt in a nervous gesture. "I doubt anyone is going to notice your shoes, Gin."

"Perhaps not."

The carriage finally slowed to a halt. With deep breaths and rolling stomachs, the girls emerged.

 

Part IV

Can't let go of your hand*

 

The illumination of the lights along the road in town mesmerized them but had in no way prepared the girls for the soft fairy glow that met their eyes. Orbs of every shape, size and intensity floated densely in the air and bobbed gently from side to side with the breeze. The sight was both magical and surreal.

The entrance hall was mostly empty apart from themselves, and it gave the girls a moment to collect their courage. Ginny grinned cheekily at Hermione, and the two joined hands and walked deeper within the castle. Heads turned and eyes stared as the duo passed, but they did not notice. Under an arch, a large room was lit up with orbs such as the ones found outside—except that these were clustered all along the ceiling. Hermione and Ginny stared up at the enchanting heights and missed the curious looks on all of the bystanders in the giant room.

As the musicians struck up another chord, Hermione looked around the open space and her eyes caught on a dark figure in a corner. It couldn't be. But it was. Master Snape was standing with a small group of older gentlemen, and his ebony eyes were searching her out as well. Hermione could feel her cheeks burning, and she was thankful once again that her features were mostly covered. Apparently no one had attempted to wrestle Snape into a gaudy masque, his face was bare of any ornament.

Ginny began pulling Hermione around the room, and as they nodded and curtsied at various attendees, Hermione could feel his eyes boring in the back of her head. Curses! Why had she done nothing to tame her hair? Suppose he figured out who she was? The thought was as thrilling as it was disturbing, and she pushed it determinedly away.

Quite before she was ready, Ginny had gravitated them towards the royal couple, Narcissa, Dracaena and the prince. The king and queen inclined their heads at the lovely girls and smiled at their son's star-struck face. Narcissa eyed them both with supreme frigidity, to the point where Hermione almost worried about frostbite. Dracaena was turning pinker by the second because Prince Potter had eyes for Ginny alone. The younger girl was glowing, utterly resplendent from the obvious attention.

Hermione smiled and chatted amiably with the pair and her heart lifted when Prince Potter, who had insisted that Ginny call him Harry, asked her to dance. The two of them glided around the room, and Hermione watched them silently until she heard the queen laugh. "Severus! Oh, I am so glad to see you. What brings you out of your dark corner and to our humble setting?"

Hermione froze, and slowly, so slowly, turned to her left to see him standing there in all of his subtle elegance. He was smiling at the queen, and saying something about fresh air. Hermione held her breath and nearly laughed when he turned towards her. He could so easily blow this ship out of the water. His dark gaze burned her as he stared at her curiously, and Hermione had to remind herself how to perform the most basic bodily functions. Breathe in. Breathe out. Blink. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Surprising them all, he asked her to dance. Hermione nodded stiffly and followed him out onto the dance floor. His hand was feather-light on her back and his gaze direct. They danced in silence for a few minutes before he began asking her questions. Her face lit up because she was finally having a real conversation with him after all of these years, but a trickle of trepidation crept up her back. Perhaps it was the daggers that Narcissa was pointedly glaring at Gin or the sad voice in the back of her mind that this was just pretend. Her first dance, her first conversation wasn't real.

Hermione's spine stiffened as she smiled warmly up at the enigma before her. This was a once in a lifetime chance and she would not waste the opportunity.

"May I inquire as to your name, my lady?"

"Jane. You may call me Jane."

He paused before replying. "No surname to alleviate a bit of the mystery you have stirred up?"

Hermione smiled. "I'm afraid not."

He nodded and as they turned a corner, he added. "Very well. You may call me Henry."

Hermione stared at him. "But that is not your name at all!"

Severus' brow rose triumphantly. "Ah, and your name is not really Jane. I was merely playing along."

Hermione laughed. "You could come up with something more credible than Henry, surely? And for that matter, Jane truly is my name." Part of it, at any rate.

His brows drew together. "I beg your pardon. Please do call me Severus."

Hermione smiled. "I would be honored, Severus."

The dance ended shortly thereafter and Severus reluctantly led her back to the assembled group. Narcissa and Dracaena were both muttering to each other darkly, and Hermione was relieved to see that the prince was not paying Dracaena the slightest bit of attention.

A few hours passed, and Hermione danced with several young men, including the handsome prince, whom she liked very much, but she tried to stay at Severus' side. When someone else asked her to dance, she could feel the heat of his ceaseless gaze upon her. The whole experience was muddling, perplexing, and she was not quite sure that she would ever fully recover. As she returned to the small group, the young man who had introduced himself as Oliver Wood took his leave with a subtle bow and a smile.

Hermione was watching Prince Potter and Ginny converse quietly near the large entry doors when she felt a strong presence nearby. Without turning, she cringed slightly at the high-pitched voice addressing her.

"What did you say your name is, dear?"

Hermione closed her eyes and took a breath before turning. Smiling as artificially as she could manage, she curtsied imperceptibly before replying. "Jane, my Lady."

Narcissa's eyes narrowed and Hermione stood still as she heard the clock begin to chime the midnight hour. Biting her lip she bowed to Narcissa hastily and bid her farewell. A few nearby people watched her escape with interest, including Narcissa and Severus, who was nearby.

Hermione broke into a sprint as she approached Ginny and Prince Potter, and without an explanation, she pulled on Ginny's arm, dragging her out of the arched doorway. While Ginny was struggling, and cursing Hermione for startling her so, she tripped and lost one of her shoes. Hermione helped her up and tried to ignore the Prince's pleading cries to wait, just wait.

Ginny turned back a few times as they ran for the carriage and finally cried out. "My shoe, Hermione, I lost it."

Hermione turned towards her friend and shook her head. "It's too late, Gin. Look at your dress. We have to go now before someone sees."

They scrambled into the carriage unhappily and as Ginny buried her face in her hands, Hermione called out loudly for Percy to go. With a spirited "Ya!" they were off, the carriage trembling from the steeds impatient gaits.

Hermione leaned back against her seat and closed her eyes. A dark solemn face swam before her mind's vision, and she rubbed her eyes wearily. Ginny was balled up on the opposite side of the carriage, and Hermione's heart went out to the younger girl. As they neared the manor, Hermione reached out and clutched her friend's hand. Ginny gasped and tightened the hold.

"Oh, Gin, I'm so sorry." Hermione whispered.

Ginny shook her head and smiled even though Hermione could not see it in the waning moonlight, as they passed through a forest. "I'm okay. Harry is so... Hermione, I swear to you, I could never find a handsomer or more honorable man if I looked for a lifetime." She paused, took a deep breath and insisted in an whisper. "I'm fine."

Hermione did not say anything, she just knelt at her friends feet and held her hand, offering what comfort she could. Stations in life could at times be cruel, and she knew that the only remedy for pining for that which you can never have is time. Eventually, Ginny would find someone worth her mettle, and all unrealistic hopes of a prince would slowly melt away. This is what she tried to convince herself of anyway. They reached the manor and the carriage slowed to a crawl, and then a halt. Hermione squeezed Ginny's hand once more and preceded her out of the carriage. They were home... back to reality.

Severus met Prince Potter outside the castle gate. The young man's black brows were drawn together in a tight line. Severus gripped his shoulder before asking. "What is going on?"

Harry shrugged him off and never took his eyes off of the worn and plain shoe in his grip. Finally looking up at his mother's best friend and occasional bane of his existence, Harry groaned. "She just ran off. Snape, what is the meaning of this?" He held up the shoe in the waning light and frowned. "Ginny lost this shoe as she was running away."

Severus froze and stared at the worn brown leather before replying. "Forgive me, Potter, but I do believe I know where they were headed. Come, let us not waste a moment."

Harry sprinted after the Potions Master and when they reached the royal stables, Harry drew to a stop and bid Snape to do the same. "Where would they be headed?" When Snape was not forthcoming with a reply, Harry sighed. "Snape, I am asking you to explain. For once in your life, dare not to be ambiguous, man!"

Severus shook his head. "You're too much like your father."

Harry's face darkened but before he could say something that he would regret, Snape continued. "I did not enlighten anyone but Albus. Narcissa Granger was planning on slipping you a love potion. The girls here tonight are her servants and must have come to foil Narcissa's plans."

Harry paused and his jaw opened and closed a few times as Snape prepared two horses. "If they were her servants, wouldn't they be trying to help her?"

Snape chuckled darkly, the sound getting lost in his throat. "What do you think, Potter? That all servants adore their masters as much as yours do you? Let's be off."

They rode briskly and Snape took the lead.

The air was still when they arrived at Granger Manor. The two men tied their mounts to a nearby tree before heading towards the entrance. Harry grabbed Snape's arm as he began walking up the steps. "Wait. Is a love potion the reason why I was so drawn to Ginny?"

Snape's brow rose. "What do you take me for, Potter? You never touched the potion, I made sure of that." Mumbling about lack of respect under his breath, Snape ascended the stairs and pounded on the door with one fist.

Percy Weasley shortly opened the door with a quizzical brow. "Master Snape? Pr-Pr-Prince? How can I help you?"

Snape pushed the door open wider and nodded at Percy. "We request an audience with your mother, your sister and one miss Granger."

Percy swallowed nervously and bowed slightly at the waist. "Of-of course. Please come to the kitchen, everyone is assembled there, I believe."

The kitchen had already been quiet, for Ginny was subdued, and everyone had been conversing quietly—but it reached silence when the unlikely trio entered the room. Ginny clapped her hands over her mouth when she saw Harry standing in her kitchen. No one moved as Harry slowly approached Ginny and his face unconsciously broke into a warm smile as he reached her side.

He knelt on the stone floor and looked up at her somewhat sheepishly. He pulled the worn shoe out of his pocket and met her widening eyes. "Is there any chance that you could help me find the owner of this rather surprising shoe?"

Ginny merely kept shaking her head and as tears began to pour down her cheeks, Harry's smile diminished. "Ginny?"

She reached forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. Speechless for the first time in her life, Ginny simply hugged him tight and buried her face in his shoulder. Behind her, her parents were gaping and unable to formulate any words as well.

Tears welled in Hermione's eyes as she watched this display, but a dark form approached her and blocked the view. Anxiety building in her gut, Hermione meekly looked up at the glowering face above her.

Snape backed Hermione into a corner and glared pointedly at her. His lip curled slightly as he addressed her. "Jane."

Hermione dusted her sleeve off and avoided his gaze. "Well, you see, Jane is my middle name. I couldn't very well proclaim that I was Hermione and give myself away, could I?"

Severus stilled her hand and her eyes slowly reached his. "I disagree, my lady. You very well could have."

"With Narcissa right there?"

Severus' brows drew together sardonically. "I do not recall being anywhere near her on the dance floor when we were having that conversation."

Hermione colored. "Perhaps not." She paused and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

Severus calmed and studied her light-brown eyes solemnly. "No more lies?"

Hermione emphatically shook her head and grinned sheepishly. "I'm horrible at it, anyway."

Severus smiled. "Indeed so, yes, I'll agree with that. So... Miss Granger, what am I going to do with you?"

Hermione's nerves stilled as she felt courage and strength take hold within her being. "I am taking back my manor."

Severus nodded. "And?"

Hermione searched his eyes. "And I want you to stay. Here. With me."

Severus tilted his head to one side and studied her face quietly. "But I am not very suitable to one such as yourself. You could and should have a duke, lord or even a prince."

Hermione smiled gently and shook her head. "It just so happens that I prefer snarky potions masters."

El fin.

A/N: Heartfelt gratitude for reading! I truly hope that you enjoyed—and will continue to do so as I work through many different fairy tales. I am taking requests; so do not hesitate to ask.

Depending on the time I have available, I will try to update every two weeks.

*The titles of Parts I, II, III and IV are from the song Cold Water by Damien Rice.

*Morning is a Long Time Coming is the title of a book by Bette Greene, the sequel to Summer of my German Soldier. I needed to give Miss Greene credit here, because her title – as well as her writing – has always stayed with me.

Oh, I would also like to point out that I adore the Malfoys and earnestly do not believe that they are evil… Especially Narcissa and Draco—but it was kind of fun writing them thus. I still cannot believe I made Draco a girl. /laughs nervously


End file.
